


Cursing the Arcane

by BrittleDame



Series: Magical Mishaps [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Barebacking, Bunnyboy Shirabu, Fantasy, M/M, Misfired spells, Semi is a shameless simp, Shirabu has walls a mile high and Semi knows how to climb them, Sorcerers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittleDame/pseuds/BrittleDame
Summary: A peaceful morning is shattered when Shirabu doesn't turn up for breakfast; his absence explained by an ominous comment from his room mate, Taichi. Concerned, Semi goes to check out just what would cause Shirabu to lock himself up, only to make a discovery that ends with them both spending the day in bed.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Series: Magical Mishaps [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068392
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Cursing the Arcane

**Author's Note:**

> This is wholly inspired by the countless art and headcanons of Shirabu liking rabbits and me taking it a step further because I can’t help myself. 
> 
> Also, you don't have to read the first installment for this to make sense, just know that sorcery is real in this universe and is a bitch to master.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy it!

Mornings at Shiratorizawa Sorcery Academy were like the calm before the storm. The students much too tired from the early start to initiate any shenanigans, the sun barely blessing the sky with her golden rays before they’re forced out of bed in order to grab some decent meal before the more voracious eaters clear out the breakfast bar.

For that reason, against his own nature, Eita forces himself out of bed, throws on the least wrinkled shirt he could find and shuffle down to the dining hall before he’s forced to consume whatever dregs are leftover. It was well worth the exhaustion if that meant a full stomach, otherwise his morning Casting class is going to be downright unbearable.

Even with sleep pulling drooping eyelids shut and yawns punctuating lazy sentences, Eita could hear the usual bustle of the pre-breakfast rush before he could see the table his friends staked a claim over in their first year together. Taking a detour, Eita lets his nose guide him to the most appealing dish before heading over, spotting that a few of his friends have already are gathered there despite the early hour. As per usual, as Eita gets closer, Tendou’s lively voice becomes louder as he recounts an adventure saga he’s recently read to a politely listening Ushijima and a Yamagata that looked to be partially invested compared to the food in front of him.

“Semi-Semi, you’re finally here! I was starting to think that I'd have to smuggle you food in class again.” Tendou chirps as Eita slips into an empty seat.

Wincing at the reminder of his debt to Tendou, Eita motions for him to tone it down as he checks that no one overheard.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” He immediately shoots back before explaining his lateness. “I couldn’t sleep all that well last night and slept through my first alarm." His shoulders slump, silently thankful of his previous self for setting multiple alarms last night after tossing and turning for no apparent reason.

“Well you must have used all your good luck, Semi-Semi. But a moment later and you would've been fighting over some hard pastries.” Tendou waggles his finger at Eita, to which he responds with an eye roll. There was no point in wasting the breath to correct the red-head over the use of the childish nickname when he never listened anyway.

Turning back to his meal, a bite was barely taken before a clamour rises at the open doorway. True to Tendou’s word, in comes an influx of students heading straight for the food like a flock of starved griffins. Eita shudders as he watches one student careen to the side as another elbows them over for a bowl of rice. It's a dog eat dog world out there for teenage sorcerers. 

Eita always held the suspicion that Tendou’s self-proclaimed _‘super lucky guessing skills’_ were a little more than what he leads on. From the moment that they met, Tendou immediately read Eita like a child’s book, something that Eita would never openly admit that terrified him immensely.

Knocking the thought to the side, Eita recognises something is amiss when no further comment is made about his tardiness. Glancing around the table, he immediately notices a certain copper-haired sorcerer missing from the table. That in itself was an unusual occurrence, opposing to his own relaxed morning routine, Shirabu had a strict schedule that had him up earlier than Eita thought humanly possible.

“Where’s Shirabu?” He asks after swallowing his first mouthful of food. 

“Holed up in his room and refusing to come out.” Kawanishi answers from across the table, barely looking away from the tome set in front of him.

“What?” Eita whirls his head around to gauge the severity of Kawanishi’s inflectionless tone. “Is he alright?”

“He says he’s fine," Kawanishi shrugs, glancing up to meet Eita's gaze. "I wouldn’t go to see him though. He’s in a dreadful mood.” Kawanishi’s normally placid face is slightly pinched, which in and of itself was enough for concern to replace the tired cloud fogging Eita's mind.

“ 'A dreadful mood?' " Tendou parrots back, astonishment written all over his face as he throws his hands up in the air. "He nearly hexed me if I hadn’t dodged in time!” 

Kawanishi rolls his eyes, all too used to his senior's dramatics. “That’s what you get for barging in on him when he said he wanted to be left alone. I warned you to leave him be, _especially_ when he gets in one of his moods.”

Tendou crosses his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair with a petulant pout. Ushijima, ever the sweetheart, places a consoling hand on the red-head’s shoulder, under which he perks back up into his usual exuberant mood. Eita had to agree with Kawanishi, when Shirabu wanted space, the universe itself better adhere or Shirabu would unleash a calamity unlike anything ever seen before. It didn't take Eita long to learn to respect the second year's personal space after one incident ending with him with snake infesting his shoes for days on end. To be fair, Shirabu did profusely apologise for it, stating it was meant to be scorpions instead - like _that_ was any better. All in all, the whole debacle was not worth surprising him with a hug.

“You didn’t see him this morning?”

Eita sets the conversation back on track, genuinely curious as to what could would cause the resilient – more like stubborn, Eita fixes – Shirabu to lock himself up. Not even his health could knock him down. Twice there's been a time when Eita's help has been enlisted by Kawanishi to pin Shirabu to his bed so he doesn't sneak out to class with a fever high enough to reduce a normal human comatose. Don't get him wrong, Shirabu's determination was a feature Eita greatly cherished, just not when it bordered on stupidity.

“Nope,” Taichi says, taking another bite out of something sweet-smelling that had Eita’s own teeth aching. “He was locked up in the bathroom, refusing to come out. I had to use Tendou’s bathroom to finish getting ready this morning.” He finishes sourly.

Well that would explain why Tendou went over to their dorm, probably to help drag Shirabu out. It came as no surprise that Shirabu retaliated against Tendou interfering with whatever was going on. What was surprising is that Shirabu is deviating from his regime, which is one thing that Shirabu lives and breathes by, specially as Introduction to Spell Casting practical exams approach. Eita assumes this as the reason for the usually carefree Kawanishi diligently reviewing while eating.

Eita frowns. He knows that Shirabu is skilled enough to handle dangers that most would cower in fear over, but he can’t help but fret over him.

“You’re going over his room.” Reon states, reading Eita’s mind.

Eita’s brows shoot skywards. Maybe Tendou’s ability to read Semi so easily wasn’t quite so special after all, judging from the knowing look Reon levers him. His worried thoughts must be written loud and clear all over his face. Schooling his face back into its usual mask of composure, washing away all evidence of his worry, Eita responds with a noncommittal hum and dives into clearing his plate. The sooner he’s done with that, the sooner he can go to Shirabu and see what's wrong and maybe even offer help before classes start.

It's only once his plate is cleared and goes to stand up that Ushijima speaks up.

“Shall I tell the professor that you may be late?”

Eita falters, considering the offer. “Yeah, that would be good. Thank you.”

Ushijima gives a short nod and turns back to the small pile of food left in front of him, determined to finish before the bell's toll. Tendou pauses from emptying his own plate’s contents onto Ushijima’s to waggle his brows at Eita, something that he didn’t dignify with a response. Gathering his belongings, Eita can feel his frown lines soften at the encouraging smile Goshiki gives him, making it easy to ignore Kawanishi shaking his head besides him 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Dismissing the ominous comment, Eita walks away with a wave and drops off his plate before setting off down the familiar path to Shirabu’s dorm room. Tendou had a flare for the dramatics, something he most likely picked up from countless novels filled with flowery prose that flew straight over Eita’s head. Besides Tendou having tucked Kawanishi under his metaphorical wing, thankfully the younger sorcerer remained as blunt as a brick, so the fact that Kawanishi was bothered by his roommate’s unusual behaviour, told by the stress lines near his mouth and direct warnings, was a large point of concern.

Fighting back the hundreds of niggling voices supplying scenarios more outrageous than the last, each one speculating the cause of Shirabu sequestering himself up in the room, refusing anyone entry. Eita shoves his hands into his pockets and picks up the pace.

Surely he’s over-reacting and Shirabu isn’t in mortal danger. In reality, he’s most likely sick and despises anyone seeing him vulnerable, Eita attempts assures himself.

* * *

Turns out there is an upside to the breakfast rush, Eita begrudgingly muses. The dormitory floor now thankfully empty with no one to bite off his head for making a racket. Eita knocks on the door labelled 206 for the fourth time. The door vibrates from the force he puts behind each knock, making them louder and unable to be ignored. He was beyond exasperated at this point. He knew Shirabu was in there and true to his bratty personality, Shirabu refuses to answer.

“Shirabu, I know you’re in there!” Eita yells through cupped hands after another series of knocks.

“Go away.” A familiar voice calls out through the door.

Eita’s jaw ticks as he takes a deep intake of air, hoping to ground the ire inside of him that was soaring to new heights.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He replies with hard conviction.

No answer comes. Fed up with his childish attitude, Eita gives a hefty sigh and begins to draw a relatively simple sigil in the air while reciting an incantation that he unfortunately learned from Tendou. It’s only when the lock click open that Eita an unknown tension sitting across his shoulder unravels. Looks like all those expeditions into school’s locked confiscated confectionery storage cabinet in the dead of nigh weren't quite so pointless after all. 

Wary, Eita toes the door open and is immediately met with a ball of fire heading his way. Without thinking, he dissolves the flames into harmless smoke with a wave of the thankfully fireproof sleeve of his uniform, a stunned yelp leaving his lips.

“Did you just try to set me on fucking fire?!” Eita exclaims, incredulous that Shirabu would go to such lengths to keep his solitary company.

“I told you not come in!” Came back Shirabu’s voice, sounding just as panicked.

“Damn, just kill a guy for coming to check up on his boyfriend why don’t you?” Eita grumbles, patting down his head at the smell of singed hair and hoping the spell didn't singe his tips away. It has taken too many years to convince his parents to allow him to grow it out to let a damned second year sorcerer burn it all away all because Eita's heart was infuriatingly soft towards copper-hued hair and passive-aggressive quips.

Shirabu just huffs and Eita can only guess from the sound of clothes rustling that he’s crossing his arms. Content that his hair was not on fire, Eita squints through the darkness, seeking out Shirabu’s figure. It was hard to find him in the dimly lit room, but the vaguely human-shaped shadow ahead of him was a dead giveaway, even without the tell-tale scowl.

“I don’t need anyone to check up on me. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

Eita scoffs. “I'm sorry but you've given me enough valid reasons to doubt that. Firstly, you have Kawanishi is worried. Secondly, you're hiding away up here. And thirdly, the fact that _you_ _nearly set me on fire_ just for coming in.”

Shirabu snorts at the exaggeration but refrains from saying anything further, carefully avoiding the sole beam of light flooding in from the doorway. Squinting into the darkness, Eita is half tempted to cast an illumination spell but is painfully reminded to not cast anymore spells until he can see Shirabu’s sigil drawing, for the sake of his own poor hair.

“I’m not hiding,” Shirabu fires back, completely ignoring the other two reasons, the ass.

The saying that eyes are the windows to the soul is overused but Eita knows how true it rings. Without any other context, Eita can gauge the emotions of someone solely through the way their eyes reflect their inner machinations. This skill turned out to be particularly useful for someone like Shirabu whom has carefully crafted a mask of intentional blankness that had Eita feeling like he was pulling out teeth when they first met. In this moment, there's a familiar taste of frustration mixed with a tinge of helplessness at being unable to see Shirabu. He can’t exactly make out the expression Shirabu is making with the shadows clinging onto his form, nor can he tear away the complex layers to Shirabu’s voice, and so he steps further into the room.

Two footsteps echo his as Shirabu proceeds to take two steps back.

Okay, now Eita is disturbed. He prides himself in maintaining a cool head when the situation calls for it, regardless what his friends might say. Even when he was struck down by an unknown illness that had him bedridden for nearly a month, he wasn’t as troubled as he is now.

“Shirabu, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” He frets, striding forward with a hand stretched out. Shirabu hops back out of reach and into the lone beam of light escaping the closed blinds.

At the sight it illuminated, Eita froze in place and gaped at the other sorcerer.

Shirabu makes a questioning noise at Eita's sudden stillness before noticing the light and realises what Eita is staring at.

“Shit.”

The sound of rapid footfalls followed by sheets being moved and Eita dazedly assumes that the younger has dived under the covers of his bed. Blinking at the vacant spot left behind, Eita turns to stare at the large lump under violet covers. There was little to no chance that what he saw was real, he reasons as he messages his closed eyes. Surely it was a trick of the light and his mind jumped to fill in the gaps formed by Shirabu’s abnormal figure outline.

_If_ Eita could indeed trust his own eyes - and that was a big 'if' - it looked like Shirabu had ears on his head. There on top of his skull were long bunny ears that most definitely weren't there last night when they parted ways. Weird situation aside, Eita rationalises that there was no feasible reason for Shirabu to be wearing rabbit ears in the dark. In the end he rules that definitely _cannot_ trust his own two eyes.

Snapping out of the stupefied daze, Eita closes the door behind him and remembers to lock it, least there be another person barging in. Flicking the overhead lights on, Eita comes to standstill beside the stubborn lump on the bed that refuses to let him peel back the covers.

“If you don’t come out I’m telling Reon about the time you fell in the pit on the edge of the school grounds and nearly died because you were too stubborn to call for help.” He threatens, hoping the incentive was great enough to overpower the Shirabu’s reticence.

The sheets stop rustling, becoming still as Shirabu measures the severity of his words. As much as Reon radiated trustworthy big brother energy, he was an awful gossip at times. It was never done maliciously, though. The level of confidentiality of the words slipping from his mouth was almost always a second thought, that is until he realises and hastily apologises and is almost always forgiven. As soon as something reaches his ears, you bet your ass it’ll be all over the school by next day with embellishments added and a plot twist ending of a secret twin or something else just as ridiculous.

Round golden eyes peer out of the blanket and Eita mentally cheers at winning the risky gambit.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Shirabu hisses, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Eita grins with no regards to his physical well-being. “Wanna find out?”

Shirabu stares at him for a second more and then disappears entirely as he draws back into the cocoon with a low mutter Eita fails to catch. Eita lets out a relieved breath and patiently waits, picking at the lint of his school pants as the sheet shuffles around as Shirabu makes up his mind, having all the time in the world. A moment later, Shirabu reluctantly emerges from the sheets.

Eita shouldn’t have looked.

Much like medusa, the power Shirabu held in directly looking at him had Eita's mind melting into a pile of pure mush instead of stone. Instead of turning to stone though, he just about melts at the sight Shirabu makes; hair tussled, cheeks flushed baby pink in embarrassment, and true to his faithful eyes, bunny ears as the cherry on top of an already adorable Shirabu cake. 

The lopsided bunny ears that stood up on his head were the same copper toned blond as his hair, with the right one flopping over on itself and Eita has to refrain from babbling absolute nonsense at how they flick under his awed stare. His fingers twitch with the overwhelming need to pet the fluffy ears that just begged to be stroked, though it was very clear that Shirabu didn't know how to act under the undivided attention.

Are they as soft as Shirabu’s hair? They certainly looked soft. There was no point in asking what he would give to touch them, Eita already knew the answer was _everything_.

The ash-blond sorcerer knew not to push any further though, recognising the signs of Shirabu being uncomfortable and not feeling up to swimming his way through murderous mermaids today once Shirabu finally snaps. However, Eita's traitorous body wants to sweep Shirabu into a hug and never let go; to spend the rest of his days telling Shirabu just how cute he was and how bad it was for his heart.

“What happened?” He asks instead.

Shirabu grumbles unintelligibly.

Amused with seeing this rarely seen side to Shirabu, Eita sits on the bed and threads his fingers together, not entirely trusting them to not fly up and attack the new furry additions.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” Eita prods cheekily, all the while knowing that if he pushes Shirabu too hard, he'll lock away this glimpse of vulnerability and reinstall that steely demeanour.

“I fucked up a spell, alright?" Shirabu sounds physically pained to say the words.

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say it has something to do with arcane magic.” Eita guesses, slightly smiling at how incredibly close Shirabu was to pouting.

Shirabu’s head whips up and finally meets Eita’s gaze, curiosity painted clearly on his face.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re awful at arcane magic.” Eita snorts and dodges a smack from a huffy Shirabu. “And yet you have the gall to give me shit for my rune and Casting abilities.” He laughs, unable to let the opportunity to tease Shirabu pass.

“That’s because you’re literally a hair away from failing them as we speak.” Shirabu deadpans.

Not rising to the obvious bait, Eita piques a brow, eyes flitting between Shirabu’s face and the ears. Shirabu gives an exasperated sigh, shoulders sagging downwards at the knowledge that Eita won't let up until he explains the situation.

“I was interrupted and broke my concentration when reviewing transfiguration and this,” Shirabu points at the ears, face settling into a dark grimace, “was the end result.”

All things considered, getting ears wasn’t that bad of an outcome after hearing other horror stories of botched spells. From the lack of complaining, Shirabu thought so too.

“I suppose you don’t want to talk about it?” Eita offers and is immediately shut down by a single flat look from Shirabu.

Eita winces. _Okay, best to avoid that sore subject in the future._

Kenjirou very much did not want to speak about his failing, but Semi’s prompting has him frowning deeply, nose crinkling in contempt as he recalls this morning’s disaster.

_The sky was barely grey when he woke up, with the sole company of Taichi's small snores stirring the still early morning. Kenjirou deduced that it was the perfect time to work on his spell casting to perfect those he hadn’t yet mastered without interference or any so-called “helpful” remarks from his roommate. Besides, early morning was the best time to practice older magic, so it suited Kenjirou just fine._

_He had diligently set up the room, working in silence by the faint light of his lamp as to not wake up Taichi and incur his bitching. It was when he was ready to begin that he became uncertain if he actually wanted to work with tricky arcane magic without supervision. It took a few minutes, but he eventually managed to snap the thread of anxiety that wanted to trip him up. Taking a steadying breath, he begins to flick through the hefty tome in front of him and settle on a spell of medium difficulty._

_It wasn’t a shock that he struggled with arcane magic, the oldest form of benign magic that hasn't been lost to time. Kenjirou thrived with the relatively modern branches magic involving runes, incantations, and alchemy. This sort of magic required a stern hand and an unyielding mind. Meanwhile, arcane magic was notorious for having a mind of its own. It is slippery and requires a pliable mind and a coaxing hand, both things that Kenjirou struggles to accommodate for._

_In summary, arcane magic is a massive pain in his ass._

_Kenjirou curses arcane magic._

_With a sigh, he settled on transfiguration. It was something he has done before in class, thus he knew it was achievable to correctly cast it, but remained as something that he found harrowing to complete. He was nearly tearing his hair out by the end of the lesson, much the amusement of the fiendish Taichi._

_A chirp at the open windowsill drew his attention and Kenjirou thanked his luck - something he would later revise and curse his fate. Following the vague instructions, yet another reason he hated the arcane, Kenjirou cleared his mind of ill intent and focused on the bird, willing it to stay in place._

Empty the mind.

_Stupid step seeing as how one has to use the mind to read, but whatever. Done._

Envision an animal of different species to the one in front of you.

_Kenjirou recalls his professor’s wise advice of picturing your favourite animal, one you’ve held and cherished, claiming it'd make it easier. Kenjirou doubted it but he didn’t have much of a choice. Turning his attention inwards, an image of a rabbit rises to the forefront of his mind, a childhood pet he had adored. The vision of the pet he intelligently named BunBun pops up clearly in his mind's eye. Recalling the beige of his coat and the small white patch of fur around his eye and encircling his underbelly was as easy as breathing. Kenjirou spent many summers playing in the grass with small rabbit, petting him and playing chase. His hands unconsciously curl against his sides as he recalls the softness of the fur against his fingertips._

_And just like that, magic starts bubbling to the surface, bringing with it the familiar feeling of electricity circuiting through his veins. Kenjirou snapped his eyes open and recited the relatively short incantation. With each word spoken, the air crackling around him intensifies as the magic accumulated around him, swirling delicate patterns in front of him. Kenjirou tries his hardest to not wrangle the magic back into shape and ended up biting his lip hard to keep himself focused._

_Nails left behind half-moon marks in the flesh of his palm as he coaxed the magic towards the bird, keeping his intent of the spell in the forefront of his mind. Finally, after a few minutes that felt more like hours of struggling, the spell yielded to his insistent will and allowed him to direct it._

_Excitement joins the volatile cocktail of emotions flowing through him as the magic curled around the perched bird, blanketing it in a blinding golden shine. At the appearance of the outline of familiar ears, Kenjirou’s mind briefly strayed from the current task. he began to reason that if he can complete this spell of relative difficulty, he needed only to practice maybe once or twice more before he finally masters –_

_He spoke far to soon. To his absolute horror, the spell rebounded as the bird startles which lead to messing up the incantation. In less than a second, the spell quite literally blows up in his face. When he came to spread out on the floor, he soon finds that he didn’t come out of the failed attempted unscathed._

_To say that Kenjirou was mortified by the new appendages was a severe understatement._

“If it makes you feel any better, they’re insanely cute.” Semi offers, snapping Kenjirou out of his reverie.

Kenjirou clears his throat, trying to bury his humiliation of having Semi witness the physical manifestation his failure. Not that he’ll admit it, but a part of him is placated by the fact that it was Semi and not one of others that is here with him right now. He shivers at the mere thought of what Taichi and Tendou would do with this knowledge if they had succeeded dragging him out of the bathroom this morning. The blackmail would've been too good for them to pass up.

Eita shuffles in front of Shirabu, who folds his legs underneath him to make room for the taller.

“Hey, look at me” Eita gently holds Shirabu’s cheeks. “It’s not the worst thing to have ever happened. They're kind of cute," Eita shoots a reassuring smile at Shirabu’s sullen expression. "On the plus side it shouldn’t last long if you didn’t complete the verses.”

Shirabu stares back at him blankly and Eita frets for a moment that maybe he shouldn’t have said anything and just offered silent support instead. His worry turned out for naught as Shirabu leans forward and delivers a chaste kiss. Now Eita is the one blushing, something that Shirabu doesn’t fail to notice.

“You think they’re cute? You got a thing for rabbits that I should know about?” Shirabu teases, eyes glinting with mischief and Eita just about deflates with relief, glad to be swimming back to familiar territory with Shirabu. He much rather suffer through Shirabu’s relentless taunts than that painful stillness Eita didn’t know how to navigate.

“Nope, I think they’re alright. Okay at best.” Shirabu rolls his eyes at Eita's nonchalance. “But I do have a thing for _you_.”

Shirabu tries not to flush but fails miserably. “You’re so cheesy.”

Eita pulls him flush to his chest, bringing their faces close enough for him to smell the spearmint on Shirabu’s breath, suave grin in place. “Only for you.”

He doesn’t give Shirabu the chance to fire back a witty retort as he closes the short distance between their mouths. Eita’s hands curl into copper strands as they lazily make out with no rush or apparent goal in mind. It was moments like these that Eita cherished greatly. Asides from the soft press of his boyfriend’s mouth against his, which made Eita feel all gooey inside and refused to admit out loud least the walls have ears, it was the fact that carefully crafted walls barricading Shirabu were cracked open to let Eita bask in Shirabu’s innate glow.

Though his eyes crack open, he doesn’t need sight to feel that Shirabu is smiling slightly into the kiss. Nor does he need to focus hard with ears already keen to hear the quietest of sounds escaping between their sealed mouths. No, what Eita does need his eyes for is to see his boyfriend's reaction to Eita divulging his curiosity and hoping it doesn't get him hexed.

With Shirabu pressed tight against his chest, Eita knows the shorter is distracted by the curl of the tongue against his and so lets his hand drift up towards the ears. Shirabu stills as Eita confirms his suspicions that they are indeed as soft as they looked.

“Can you feel that?” He asks aloud, wondering if the feeling is uncomfortable for Shirabu.

“It’s… different but not unpleasant.” Shirabu admits hesitantly, trying to gather his rapidly spiralling thoughts. Only Semi could reduce him to this state after a few harmless kisses, he muses.

Taking that as permission to continue, Eita hums as he rubs the downy fur between his thumb and forefinger. They feel exactly like a rabbit’s and Eita commends the amount of effort Shirabu put into this spell regardless of it backfiring.

In the meanwhile, Kenjirou sits there and finds himself watching Semi’s placid features, his dark eyes glittering with childish glee. Kenjirou's heart feel too large in his own chest at the intimate sight. Needing an outlet for that overwhelming feeling before it bursts, Kenjirou interrupts Semi’s petting in favour for kissing him once again. Pushing impossibly closer, Kenjirou thought he could hear Semi’s heartbeat rocket skywards. The atmosphere heats up as they intensify their kiss, hands greedily running over whatever exposed skin they could find and ignoring the way their teeth clacked together a few times.

“They’re going to notice you missing.” Shirabu mumbles against Eita's lips, inwardly ruing the fact that he unfortunately needed breath in order to live.

“Don’t care.” Eita smoothly replies, going to kiss Shirabu again but is meet with a cheek instead of lips and a stern look.

“You’re going to care when high sorcerer Washijou won’t let you in the Casting Arena because you skipped classes today.”

Feeling touched that Shirabu was concerned about him, Eita brushes a thumb over a faintly freckled cheek.

“I’m sure he’ll understand why I skipped. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let my sick lover suffer alone? That’s just downright cruel.” Eita’s words drip with exaggerated concern. Shirabu fondly shakes his head, trying and failing to maintain a stern air.

Using his hold on Shirabu’s cheek, Eita draws him in for another kiss that he can again feel Shirabu smiling into. As much as Shirabu blusters and feigns indifference to Eita’s displays of affection, Eita can tell by the way copper eyes light up that Shirabu does enjoys the affection under the glowering façade.

As the kiss progresses into less innocent territory, Shirabu’s thigh moves between his and presses against his bulge. Blood begins to rush south at the pressure and Eita sighs into Shirabu’s mouth, who greedily consumes the sound. Moving so he’s more comfortable on the messy bed, Eita rests his back against the wooden headboard then lifts Shirabu onto his lap. As his hands go to smooth up Shirabu's back, they ends up pausing when Eita makes an unintentional discovery. Instead of smooth skin at the base of Shirabu’s spine, Eita finds a tuft of fur. They both startle when Eita gives it a testing squeeze, not at all expecting Shirabu to react so strongly. Looking as if Eita just electrocuted him, Shirabu jolts forward, nearly head-butting Eita if he didn't duck to the side.

“What in the…” Shirabu trails off, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. Eita tucks his chin over the shorter's shoulder and feels his lips curl upwards as Shirabu's drops open in surprise at the sight.

“Aw! You have a cute little cotton tail and all.” Eita coos as his fingers dig into the flesh of Shirabu’s hips as they itch to reach out and bury themselves into the soft-looking bundle of fur. Today has been nothing but a never-ending trial of Eita’s self-restraint and he was nearing the end of his tether after this.

“I will not hesitate to transport you in the middle of that siren-infested lake and leave you there to drown.” Shirabu threatens, scowling at him but Eita's grin doesn't falter.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Eita replies airily, fingers straying towards the ball of fur and cautiously begin to gently comb through it.

In his lap, Shirabu tenses up. Biting his lip at the weird sensation, Kenjirou finds the touch similar to that of Semi stroking high up in his inner thigh. It was odd but not entirely unwelcome. At the lack of complaints, Eita applies more pressure to the bundle while his free hand drifting upwards and gives an ear long strokes with the back of his hand. The ash-blond sorcerer admires how soft the tail was, almost exactly like the ears.

A blush sears his cheeks as he collapses against Semi's with a low keen. Although Kenjirou despised the lack of control he had right now, he found himself relaxing into the soft pets. Even more surprising, he allowed himself to relish the tiny bolts of electricity they sent up his spine.

“You like that, huh?” Eita asked rhetorically. From the short time they’ve been together Eita has found that Shirabu does not possess the impermeable demeanour attributed to his Elven heritage that his classmates liked gossip about. To Eita, Shirabu was like one of the most intriguing puzzle he’s had the pleasure of solving. It was all in the little ticks, the slightest curve of his lips when Kawanishi embarrasses himself or the smallest crease between his brows as he toils over a spell he can’t immediately master. Each movement revealed a piece of Shirabu's soul to Eita, making him all the more intrigued. 

Kenjirou grits his teeth and grinds himself into Semi’s hardening member, feeling vindicated at the small gasp the suddenly quiet sorcerer lets out.

Eita's head tilts back in order to take more of Shirabu in. It was always a pleasure to see Shirabu sitting so patiently in his lap.

“I was going to keep this above the belt before you did that, y‘know?” Eita lightly teases.

“I’m finding that a little hard –” Shirabu’s voice pitches high as Eita’s fingers roughly dig into the ball of fluff with a victorious smirk. Shirabu glowers up at him through pale lashes and curtly finishes, “I find that hard to believe. You have the libido of a pixie in heat.”

“Would it kill you to not be cheeky for a day?” Eita chides, not letting Shirabu’s likening him to a household pest dampen his sunny mood.

As per usual he was entirely correct about Eita’s proclivities towards skinship with those he's close with. Although it hasn’t always been like this. Eita prided himself on both keeping a cool head when the time calls for it and on holding the utmost respect for his superiors and those that earnt it. While Shirabu was definitely one of those people he respects, Eita couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Like an enchantment, Eita’s hands would drift into Shirabu’s space and give the barest of caresses in passing. Whenever Eita has a moment alone with Shirabu, the craving for skinship a necessity to him Especially now when Shirabu is looking up at him like _that._ It was effortless to strip them both down to their underwear in the blink of an eye.

He raises a hand and brushes stray hair away from Shirabu’s face, who leans into the touch with a content expression. They’ve certainly have come a far way from barely talking to Shirabu accepting Eita’s constant need to touch with mild complaining.

Seizing Shirabu’s momentary lapse in attention, Eita flips them over. With Shirabu now resting against the sheets, his hair fans out on the pillow like a copper halo. From the sight alone, Shirabu indeed looked like an angel, but not in the modern sense. Shirabu’s angelic demeanour was more in the classic sense of divine fury and otherworldly beauty that blinded mortal eyes if one dared looked at him directly for too long.

Shirabu cups Eita’s cheeks, drawing him back to the moment with ease that belied their budding relationship. It wasn’t unusual that the kiss Shirabu draws him into quickly amps up. Mindlessly grinding against each other, Eita's lust clouded mind decides there’s still too many layers between them. Judging from the small noises coming from Shirabu, he shares the same sentiment. Eita continues lazily rolling their hips together until Shirabu is a squirming mess and Eita is close to exhausting all deposits of self-control he possesses.

Drawing back, Eita pauses to paint the masterpiece Shirabu makes right now in his mind’s eye, wanting to immortalise this moment.

“You’re so cute,” Eita confesses aloud, acting as if he hasn’t already expressed the sentiment a dozen times before, “but I think you’ll look cuter under me.” He finishes with a sly smirk.

“I’m already under you, idiot.” Shirabu replies with a blush on his cheeks that negates his flat tone.

Eita’s grin widens, embedded hands leaving the bundle of fur in favour for tangling in soft dark blonde hair. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Shirabu gives him an exasperated look before speaking again. “Middle drawer. In the back left corner.” He instructs, loosening his hold on Eita’s broad shoulders.

Giving a nod, Eita leans off the bed to rummage around in the bedside, blindly feeling around the drawer until his hand makes contact with a familiar bottle. Behind him, noises of Shirabu kicking off his underwear rang out and Eita has to smother a laugh at the other's obvious impatience. While there was no time limit with everyone being pulled into class, this didn’t stop Eita from opening the bottle and immediately start warming up the viscous liquid in his hand. He was quick to learn that rushing and not taking into account how sensitive Shirabu was to cooler temperatures would earn him a swift kick to the face.

“Next time we’re using yours.” Shirabu states out of nowhere. Eita’s raised eyebrows notifies the former that he’s lost.

“Your lube. You always use too much and it's always a pain to get more.” Shirabu elucidates in monotone.

“You’ve never complained before,” Eita huffs, still working the liquid between deft fingers. Deeming it warm enough, he reaches under Shirabu, who makes it easier by raising his hips, and pauses for a heartbeat, taking in all of the gorgeous sorcerer before him one last time before delving in.

Shirabu chooses not respond as he feels Eita’s fingers ghost around his hole, knowing that he’d make an embarrassing sound if he opened his mouth as they slip inside. The prodding fingers skilled in their knowledge of how to open him up in no time at all. And if Eita took a few extra minutes to admire the way Shirabu flushed and squeezed at the pillow under his head for dear life, no one had to know. Shirabu’s body relaxes against the bed as the long fingers withdraw, a whimper slipping out that had Eita’s ears perk up.

“Don’t be afraid to make some more noise for me, babe.” Eita teases, removing his own underwear single-handedly and begins to smear the excess slick onto his rigid member, feeling relieved at freeing his borderline painful erection.

“Shut the fuck up.” Shirabu hisses back without any malice. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Eita could tell Shirabu was forcefully relaxing himself in the face of rising anticipation. It would only bring discomfort if he didn’t relax and Eita didn't want to tarnish this experience. 

Deciding a distraction was in order, Eita leans down and speaks directly into Shirabu’s ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Hands and knees, pretty boy.”

A heartbeat passed where Eita almost feared that Shirabu would back out. Silent as a ghost, he laid there staring up at Eita with wide golden eyes and kiss-swollen mouth ajar, evidently not expecting that. Like the toll of heaven’s bell, the sound of Shirabu releasing a shaky breath as his eyes flutter shut has the tension bleed out of Eita.

Without a word of protest, Shirabu complied and moved into position all while Eita watch on with a wolfish grin. From courting Shirabu in 'the most improper way', according to the ever-traditional Ushijima, Eita has found that while he thrived off of Shirabu’s brattiness, it was when Shirabu dropped all pretence and allowed himself to open up that Eita knew that they were in for a fun time.

As Shirabu settled on his elbows and knees, chest pressed against the bed and face buried in sheets, that Eita concludes that this was indeed going to be memorable. Hopefully in a _good_ way.

To Eita’s endless amusement, the bunny ears quiver as his hands roam the display of smooth skin before him. Existing for not even half a day and Eita is already attached to the extra appendages and how responsive they are compared to the few breathy gasps and moans Shirabu let slip. The receptive ears jump when Eita grinds his cock between plump cheeks after Shirabu releases an impatient sound. Much to Shirabu’s relief, Eita was not able to tease any longer after he grinds back, a hiss sounding from above him as Eita lines up.

Ignoring Shirabu's smug smile, Eita wipes it clean off his face as he slides inside in small increments. As much as he despised the attitude he received, he didn't want to hurt Shirabu on purpose. Once Shirabu’s body language signals pleasure usurping the discomfort Eita sheaths the rest of himself in one fell swoop. Shirabu bites his bottom lip through the intrusion, still not able to immediately acclimate to Eita’s size even after all their trysts together.

“You’re so good for me.” Eita comments conversationally like he wasn’t buried to the hilt inside of Shirabu.

“Gods, you never shut up.” Shirabu snidely remarks, ignoring the way he can feel the unwanted extra set of ears flop flat against his head, the traitorous things belying how much he liked Eita’s praise. 

Now it's Eita's turn to be smug. “Don’t act like you don’t like it when I talk.” Eita dips low, mouth close enough to his ear that the next words come out as a rumble that Shirabu can feel as well as hear. “You get so tight when I do. Is it my voice?”

The defence sitting on the tip of Shirabu’s tongue is lost to the void as Eita starts thrusting, not even giving him the chance to answer. It was always an achievement to catch Shirabu unawares, the reward of which widely varied from a sharp quip to the unintentionally sweetest moments. Luckily, Eita finds himself reaping the latter reward as Shirabu’s mouth drops open as he lets loose a sweet, wavering moan.

With every thrust, the temperature heightened along with their combined pleasure. If Kenjirou was any less pragmatic, he would believe that Semi was a god delivering him to an Elysian realm.

"Shit," he groans into the sheets gathered around his face, feeling the drag of Semi inside all too acutely.

Above him, Eita's hand conquers pale expanse of Shirabu’s back. Chartering each bump of his spine, Eita pays special attention to the ball of fluff at the base of it. The predatory grin on his face widens as Shirabu finally exposes his face, face squished against the bed he was being pounded into, cheeks painted a stunning rouge and eyes teary as Eita overwhelms his senses by massaging the tender base.

A hardened part of Eita softens under the push and pull of Shirabu’s pliable body, tender words spilling out unaccounted for. Whispering sweet sentiments that plague his mind whenever he catches a glimpse of hard copper eyes, and if he was more himself, he’d be a blushing mess for confessing such intimate thoughts that clung to him in his less lucid moments. The short tender moment soon moved into more heated territory. 

“You should see the sight you make on my cock, babe.” Eita breathes, tightening his grip on Shirabu’s waist and using it as leverage to pull him back onto his cock as he simultaneously rocks forward, hitting deeper than before.

Kenjirou inhales sharply between his teeth, fingers clawing into the sheet to anchor himself only to be swept away once again in Semi's fervent pace. Kenjirou resists against the bruising hold, wanting – _needing_ – friction on his own painful erection that Semi's hold prevented from rubbing against the bedding. Any kind would do; Kenjirou just needed something to release the burning need to be _touched_. Stubbornly, he refuses his own hands permission to stray downwards to sort the issue out solo.

“Eita, please. _Touch me_.”

At the demand, a tremor shakes Eita’s form for two reasons. One: Shirabu’s wrecked voice begging him. Two: he could never tire of hearing his given name from Shirabu. Eita stalls the rocking of his hips for a heartbeat, relishing in the small disappointed noise Shirabu makes.

“So good for me.” Eita growls out, shifting to support Shirabu with one hand while the other sneaks below canted hips. “I think my little bunny deserves a reward.”

Shirabu’s eyes fly open at the touch of Eita grasping his leaking member, startling a keen out of the younger. In response, Eita tightens his hold on the shorter’s waist and starts pulling Shirabu onto his cock while simultaneously twisting his hand around the sensitive cock head in a way that has Shirabu’s mouth dropping open. Breaths now coming out in short bursts as Shirabu is pushed closer and closer to the edge with each powerful connection of their pelvises.

“Shit- Eita!” Shirabu pants out, eyes squeezing shut and trying to delay his impending orgasm by digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

Unfortunately for Shirabu, Eita is spurred on by this, quickening his pace to match the quickly growing heat coiling tight in his abdomen. Eita bites his inner cheek hard enough for it to bleed. _Fuck_. He was so damn close, a fine sheen of sweat covering them both as they both desperately sought out their climaxes.

“Come for me, Kenjirou. Let me see that pretty face of yours.” Eita rasps into the juncture of his neck, following with rasping his teeth along pale, unmarked skin. Shirabu’s dick twitch upwards in his loose hold. Hiding his smirk into the slightly irritated skin, Eita begins to suck in a rough mark that he knows is going to end with a bruise on his ribs when Shirabu sees it. The potential bruise was well worth it as Shirabu comes with a sudden shout.

Stroking Shirabu through his orgasm, his own thrusts become slower in favour for striking deeper as Shirabu tightens around him substantially. Hot ropes decorate his hand as he works the trembling sorcerer through his orgasm. After one final jerk, Eita is uncaring how messy the sheets were getting as he wipes his hand off on them. Shirabu can yell at him later for that. Right now Eita abandons all thought except for dowsing the bonfire roaring inside his gut.

Below him, Shirabu started meeting each thrust, fighting through the haze of sensory overload. Even when blissed-out, Shirabu knew all the right movements to have the ash-blonde joining him in the white-hot euphoria.

“F-fuck! _Kenjirou_!” He moans loudly, pitching forward and resting his forehead on Shirabu’s shoulder as he spills deep inside. Eita was not expecting Shirabu to play dirty, leaving him no time to pull out. This is something he’s sure Shirabu will scold him for later.

The strength that underlies his every move vanishes and leaves Eita feeling exhausted, albeit pleasantly so. Thankfully he had enough reserves to roll off of Shirabu before crushing the smaller under his dead weight. That would’ve been a quick way to shatter the post-orgasmic haze that manages smooth over even Shirabu’s legendary prickliness.

Silence fills the gaps left behind by the breathy and slick sounds while the two gather themselves. Without even realising it, Eita find his clean hand drifting up to Shirabu’s head that had made its way to his shoulder and starts absently fingering at downy fur. Shirabu minutely tenses at the touch before melting into Eita under the careful stroking.

“How long do you think this will last?” Eita finally speaks up, slightly concerned with how they'll manage to hide the new additions if the spell lasts for days or even weeks, which is entirely possible with the unpredictable old magic.

Drowsily, Shirabu rolls onto his side and places a hand on Eita’s chest with a contemplative frown, ripped out of the gentle lull Eita dropped him into. “Seeing as how your last stuff up lasted seven hours, this should be gone by supper.”

Eita decidedly doesn’t smirk at the mention of that fateful night they got together. He leaves Shirabu to mull over the issue while he looks over the memory with pride. The first round was absolutely unforgettable with how emotionally-charged the scene was. The succeeding rounds though? Less so. The next thing he remembers is spending the rest of the night recuperating and working through their newfound relationship together. 

"Okay." Eita simply hums in response, tugging Shirabu closer into his chest. 

Not having the energy to put up a fight, Kenjirou settles nearly on top of Semi and listens closely to his strong heartbeat. Eyelids fluttering shut, he’d rather participate in one of Tendou’s and Taichi’s mentoring sessions than tell the ever-fussing Semi that this was the only sure-fire way to lull him to sleep.

“I’ll make the best of what time I have left then.” Semi sleepily declares, tangling their limbs so thoroughly that Kenjirou failed to tell where he ended and Semi began, their breathing becoming deeper as they slip into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was only much later on, after the beam of light filtering through the closed blinds dims and vanishes, that a thought strikes Eita. It brings forth a smile that he can't seem to wipe off of his face. Sitting besides him, Shirabu notices this abrupt change in attitude and eyes him, suspicious.

“What has you in such a happy mood.”

Curling his arm tighter around Shirabu's shoulder, blatantly ignoring the sharp glare burning directed at him.

“I just realised that I have my own personal Shirabunny.” Eita states proudly with all the tact of a child.

Eita is immediately met with a solid punch to the shoulder, something he would’ve foreseen if he wasn’t entranced by the rhythmic twitching of the long ears **.** Recoiling from the blow, he rubs at it with a wince.

“Ow, that hurt, asshole.”

“Much better.” Kenjirou says, pleased with himself. The reason for Semi's new bruise bob in synchrony with Kenjirou's head as he leans over Semi to grab the abandoned tome from this morning. If he was going to spend the rest of today being lazy in bed, he was at least going to do some readings.

Flicking a subtle glance towards the pouting ash-blond sorcerer, Kenjirou decides then and there he'll try his hardest to try and convince Semi to stick around and act as a test subject. At least Semi knows to sit still during a casting session, unlike that damned bird. 

Who knows, maybe Shirabu can extract his own form of revenge and give Semi a matching pair of ears and tail? The thought alone had heat flooding back into his cheeks. Filing it in the back of his mind, a sigh slipped from his lips as he settled against Semi comfortably, not planning on moving anytime soon.

Semi shoots him a small smile before delivering a peck to his forehead. A familiar rush of warmth much milder than the one before rushes through Kenjirou and he can feel the corner of his mouth tick upwards without much thought.

This wasn't exactly how he planned to spend the day but he definitely wasn't going to complain about a day spent away from life's stressors and in the arms of a cuddly Semi.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t think I’d write anything else in this universe but I wanted to write bunny boy Shirabu without fleshing out a backstory and magic is a lazy out that I can and will abuse. 
> 
> I struggled with writing and editing this project for so long. This was actually meant to be released in September but better late than never I guess...
> 
> As always, critiques, comments & kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
